Night Club Lights
by rainxface
Summary: one-shot. Max is at a bar with Monique. Who is it staring at them? Who is the new guy at the table at 2:30? And Max has kids? Read to find out. It's not cheesey. well, some of it is. Not like my usual stories!


**Four characters are in their 20's. Other two are young kids. I have no exact ages.**

**So, as I am writing, I imagine Fang looking like either (young) Patrick Dempsey or James Marsden. Total cuties right there.**

**And then Max is Katherine Heigl.**

**Disclaimer: I own the plot line, but JP owns the characters… somewhat. As in, I stole his and renamed them.**

Across from the dance floor, he stared. I knew that particular face, seen him many times every night, but never had I spoken to him. He was the grand master. Grand master of women, that is. I never dared to talk to him.

But, as every other night, he stared at me.

In this highly packed night club, the colorful lights bouncing off the walls were the only lights to his figure. And with his figure, his two arms were extended, wrapped around Play Boy wannabes. It was almost pathetic how much attention this blond received.

I turned my attention back to my friend. She was rambling on and on to the bar tender. The poor guy looked like all he wanted to do was get back to the rude drunks hanging out else where.

I tapped Monique on the shoulder.

"Hey, don't talk too much. You won't have much time for your drink," I said, half laughing.

"You're right," Monique replied. "It was nice talking to you." She played around with her martini glass, sliding it around. "Is James looking this way?"

I sighed.

"You know it."

"I don't know why you aren't appreciating the time when he is looking at us. He is a god and he is calling us over to be his little goddesses. Seriously, I find it rather fine." She smiled huge. "You wanna walk over there?"

"No," I said firmly. "No, he's totally out my league."

"What? He's totally for you! Come on, blonde hair, blue eyes, built body – ripped more like it – and a gorgeous smile. How could he be out of your league?"

"Easily. A player. He totally plays girls and sleeps with five of them at once! Tell me, do you really think I'd go for a guy like that?" I retorted.

Monique shook her head shyly.

"Exactly," I muttered before sipping my own martini.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the entry doors swing open. A tall and thin man walked through with his sunglasses still on. He was dressed in all black. I was in shock and nearly dropped my glass.

He calmly pulled off his sunglasses, exposing dark eyes. The dancing lights barely affected the different shades of black he was modeling. Even the messy ball of hair on his head was black.

He was not just another man in the club.

"Monique, do you see that man that just entered?" I asked quickly, my eyes still glued to him.

"No. Where is he?" she wondered. Her eyes started flying everywhere, checking out every table and booth.

I watched as he sat down at a booth not too far from us.

"Check 2:30."

Seconds passed, and my eyes did not drift from their fixed positions.

"I see him. He is _fine_!" Monique whispered. "Wanna send him a drink?" I then turned to her on my left.

"What? No! No way are we sending a drink to a guy we just saw walk in!" I kept my voice low, although it would be next to impossible to hear us over the loud bass thumps of the dance music.

"Oh, come on! Loosen up! I so need to get you to do more daring things!" she claimed, flagging down the bar tender. He sighed and walked over.

"Yes?" He sounded almost as if he was hiding being annoyed.

"I'd like to order that man over there –" she pointed to the man in the booth "– a martini. Cuke style," my friend ordered. "Thank you." And she handed him the money.

Minutes passed, and I watched him still. He received the martini. Monique had left to the dance floor, probably catching a few guys while she was at it. I had stayed in my seat at the bar.

My eyes drifted away from the man as I ordered another martini. When I looked back, he was not to be seen.

"Looking for someone?" a voice called over the loud music.

I turned around and nearly jumped out my seat.

"Holy Jesus Christ almighty!" I cried out. "Oh, sorry. I didn't see you coming over here."

"It's alright," he said, his voice smooth and calm. "Was it you who sent me the drink? Or was it your friend?"

"Oh, that was –" I broke off, thinking of who I should put it on. Monique would tell me for me to take it; she'd already found herself a guy for the night. "That was me." I smiled sheepishly.

"Do you always introduce new guys to the bar with a drink?" he inquired, starting to smile.

"Actually, no. My friend told me that I should for you," I half lied.

"Oh, I see. May I sit?" He pointed to the high chair next to me.

"Yeah, totally."

"I'm Anthony. But most people call me Tony," he introduced.

"I'm Max," I replied, shaking his hand. "Just Max."

"Nice to meet you, Max," he smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Anthony," I teased. "Or do you want me to call you Tony?"

"Which ever you'd like."

"I've never seen you here. Why?" I stared at him with a quizzical expression. He looked like he'd think he'd be too good for a club almost as run-down as this one. He seemed like he'd pass it on the street and say, _Gee, that place looks horrible_ before walking to a fancy bar up in the city.

"Well, I got kicked out of my last job and I had to find somewhere to go after that. Now I have a job just down the street from here. I thought it would be nice to celebrate my new job with a drink at the local club," he explained.

"Oh really? What do you do?" I asked. I wanted the conversation to continue. Why wouldn't I? I was sitting at a bar, talking to the most gorgeous man in the place.

"I'm a journalist. For the city Harold. Do you get that paper?"

"I think so, yeah. What do you write?"

"I'm the sightings guy. If you see Bigfoot or something, tell me," he joked. We both laughed.

"No really, what do you write?"

"The technology page, now." He sighed. "People don't really know how much technology is affecting us now. It's almost pathetic." He frowned. "We want to go somewhere, we text our friends for a ride. We want to know when the next train leaves, we check the schedule on our phones. We want to check our e-mail, and it's right there on our goddamn cell phones."

"I take it you don't like how much technology is changing?" I asked shyly.

"Not really. Soon, robots will be taking over the world and all we humans will be doing will be sitting on our fat asses watching it happen. We'll be too fat to move and to do anything about it. Why? Because we programmed the robots to do as we command. What happens if someone develops a chip that can give the robot emotions? They rebel. Why? Because they'll know that metal beats bone," he ranted, a rage building up in his system.

"Okay, um, I think we need to get you to the dance floor," I said awkwardly. I jumped off my stool and grabbed his arm. "Come on. It's alright," I cooed. He followed me, unsure of if he should be following me.

"I don't dance," he told me.

"Neither do I," I replied. I stopped somewhere in the big crowd. Not too far from us was Monique, who was dancing with James. I was in both shock and revolt.

"Is something wrong?" he yelled to me.

I broke my gaze from my friend. "My friend, Monique, is dancing with James – the 'celebrity' (for a lack of a better term) person here," I explained.

"Are you jealous that you're stuck with me?"

"No! Not at all! I'd rather be with someone I just met than that scumbag." I sighed, looking back at Monique. "I just wish she didn't fall into that trap."

"Sometimes you just have to let people do their own things. Do you act like her mother sometimes?" This guy really liked asking questions; although earlier I was the one with hundreds of questions for him.

"No! Sometimes, yes," I said. "Yeah, for the most part."

"Let her be the judge for her own life," he said softly in my ear. Just then, his hands grabbed hold of my waist lightly. A slower song came on, and I looked up at Anthony. In his eyes, I could get lost. With as cliché as it sounds, it was true. I subconsciously wrapped my arms around his neck and we were swaying to the beat of the ballad.

"You have gorgeous eyes," he complimented. I smiled with a blush.

"Thank you. Yours are striking, too."

Hours passed on the dance floor, Anthony and I just dancing. But as the end approached, James came towering our way. Now that I had seen him standing and not sitting, he was a fairly tall guy; 6'2" and taller with his hair as spiky as it was.

"What are you doing with my woman?" he bellowed, forcing Anthony away from me. Monique came running after him, obviously a little drunk and tipping every so often.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize she had an owner," he said snidely.

"She doesn't. But soon she will, and it ain't gonna be you," James retorted.

"What makes you so sure about that?" Anthony, not that much shorter than James, looked him the eye, a glare starting to show.

"Don't start something, please," I begged. Although, I wouldn't doubt that no one heard me.

"James, baby. Stop this right now," Monique told him.

"No!" And then James punched Anthony in the jaw.

"Crap," I said instinctively. I watched as Anthony stuttered back, looking bamboozled by the sudden strike. He didn't seem too stricken from it, able to mend himself.

Anger raged through me. All of the sudden, my fist met with James' nose. I heard a loud _crack!_ and I knew I broke it. Blood flowed out of his nostrils. James looked stupefied. Apparently, he had never been hit before, much less by a girl.

"Are you okay?" I asked Anthony, once James looked stunned enough.

"Yeah. My jaw doesn't feel broken," he replied.

"Bitch!" James screamed out.

"I think we should get out of here…" James whispered to me.

"Yeah." I nodded, a smile growing.

Anthony took my hand and we ran. Out the doors and onto the streets, we sailed, almost as if flying. But we were laughing the whole way. We didn't care, apparently. We were just having fun.

A few blocks away, we slowed down to a walk. Our breaths were just returning, but we were still laughing loudly. I checked my watch.

"Shit, is it already that time?" I wondered to myself.

"What? What time is it?" Anthony asked, trying to see my watch.

"It's 3 am," I whispered. "I'm sorry, I've got to get home. I have to get to my kids."

"You're married?" he nearly screeched. "Jesus Christ! You're married! Oh, shit."

"No, no, no, I'm not married," I said fast. "They're from a long high school story. I'm sorry to freak you out like that. No, I just made a mistake in high school, that's all."

"Oh, one of those stories," he mused.

"Yeah." I sighed. "Look, I really would love to talk more, but I've really got to get to my kids. Angela will freak and Jason will be livid. I really am sorry."

"At least, let me walk you home. Women shouldn't wander the streets alone at night." He smiled at me in a mocking manner.

"Fine. But only if you promise me one thing."

"What would that be?"

"For me to see you again," I replied. I watched Anthony's expression as it changed. From calm and care-free to shocked and surprised.

"Of course," he said.

**So, this was sort of long, but whatever. It was interesting to write. Usually I don't write stuff like this, but I guess every writer should go through a story that they usually wouldn't write just to get the feeling of it.**

**No, there will not be a sequel. I was just testing this sort of plot line.**

**Review if you loved it, hated it, or anything else.**

**Smile,**

**rainxface**


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